


inhale, exhale

by skaralding



Series: mingled breaths [3]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alpha Uchiha Itachi, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe, F/M, Female Uzumaki Naruto, Knotting, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, No Uchiha Massacre, Omega Uzumaki Naruto, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:48:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27378229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skaralding/pseuds/skaralding
Summary: Two months after Naruto and Itachi start fucking, they’re still going at it. Which wouldn’t be a problem if they could only figure out how to turn that very basic relationship into something else.
Relationships: Uchiha Itachi/Uzumaki Naruto
Series: mingled breaths [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1674541
Comments: 18
Kudos: 357





	1. inhale

**Author's Note:**

> Somewhat less sex in this one. Should still be a satisfying read so long as you don't mind dumbass misunderstandings caused by a cowardly lack of communication >.>

Two months after Naruto starts fucking Itachi, she realizes something a little terrifying: he’s all but moved into her apartment.

It’s not a bad thing, on the face of it. He’s barely around her for more than a couple days every week anyway, before he’s back off on yet another important mission or buried in meetings and intelligence primers for the run-up to a new one.

He’s still so polite about his semi-weekly intrusions into her space that it’s unsettling. “You don’t mind?” he keeps asking, every time he introduces some other small amenity into a carefully picked-out spot. The first few times, Naruto can’t help but feel flattered; she’s too used to Sakura showing up at 3 A.M. to demand some magazine issue that ends up turning up in one of Sakura’s many storage seals.

But then, a couple days before Itachi is due back from something in the Land of Iron, Sakura interrupts Naruto’s bragging-slash-scolding session with a roll of her eyes and an over-loud cough. “Cut the bullshit,” Sakura says, scraping her half-full beer bottle against the pitted wood of the bar table between them. “You don’t act like this with him, right?”

“What, I can’t even talk about him now?” Naruto rolls her eyes as well, exaggerating the motion as much as possible. “I see how it is. _You’re_ fine bragging about licking Sasu-chan’s ass day in and day out, but if _I_ say anything—”

“Sshh!” Sakura’s reflexive panic whenever Naruto uses that phrase is never going to get old; the fact that the bar is still as half-empty as it was when they got there doesn’t stop Sakura from literally swivelling her head round to make sure no one is obviously listening in. “Can you not be so fucking loud? You know how shy he is about—you _know_ he doesn’t know I told you!”

It’s all Naruto can do not to roll her eyes again. The very reason Sasuke clams up whenever anything detailed or remotely raunchy comes up in conversation is seated directly across from her, eyeing up the only bar patrons near enough that they might have overheard something. It’s true that Sakura has recently been leaving a little more up to the imagination whenever she’s updating Naruto or Ino on how far she and Sasuke have gotten, but seriously? The only way Sasuke can possibly believe Sakura hasn’t been talking about what he lets her do to him is if he’s somehow had the last five years’ worth of memories erased.

Since that definitely hasn’t happened, the haunted look on Sakura’s face is almost more annoying than it is amusing. _Wake up,_ Naruto desperately wants to tell her best friend. _Why bother acting like this when you’re going to keep bragging about him anyway?_

Naturally, Naruto doesn’t say anything, busying herself by rotating her still mostly full beer on its coaster instead. Satisfying as it would be to watch Sakura sputter while insisting she can totally stop bragging about sex or Sasuke whenever she wants, it wouldn’t be worth pissing Sakura off. Just thinking about the way Sakura’s eyes shone when she found out about Naruto’s first time with Itachi, and how she’d only barely agreed not to go around spreading the news is enough to give Naruto a full-body shudder.

“You don’t have to keep being so petty,” Sakura says, after another suspicious glance in the direction of the bartender. “Just because Ita-chan hasn’t marked you yet…”

Now, Naruto can’t help but roll her eyes. “It’s not the warring states era anymore, y’know,” she says. “Marks aren’t everything.”

The fact that marking someone else no longer means having to marry them didn’t seem to stop Itachi-san from keeping it off the table. But the reason he gave for it wasn’t at all the one you’d expect from an old-fashioned alpha. _Done improperly, it can not only induce a heat, but can leave you fixated for weeks,_ he said, when she first got up the courage to ask about it. _There’s no reason to risk a bad reaction just to satisfy ourselves in the short term._

Serious as Itachi’s words were, they were offset by his heated gaze and the suggestive slide of his hand down her bare back. He didn’t _say_ he was confident he could provide more than enough ‘short term satisfaction’ to make up for the lack of a mark; he didn’t need to. Just the way he looked at Naruto back then was enough to make her think of how many times he’d already made that implication a scorching reality.

“Wow,” Sakura says, sarcastically. “Two months in and he’s already got you brainwashed. Who was it that said she bet he’d give in within a month and a half again?”

“I’m not brainwashed,” Naruto retorts. “I just… I mean, it’s not like what we do is really lacking anything, so…”

“Oh, come on! Didn’t you just tell me he doesn’t bite you _anywhere_?”

“Okay, fine, you’re right,” Naruto says, frustration making her voice louder than it probably should be. “I want bites! I’m desperate for a bite!”

“Hey, sweetheart,” the older woman two tables over from them says, with a flash of her fangs that she probably thinks is sexy, “if you’re really in a bind—”

“Fuck off,” Naruto says, only a beat ahead of Sakura. The only way out with a certain brand of cocky older alpha is to be mercilessly blunt; anything less than that goes in one ear and out the other. Sometimes, just giving them any kind of response is enough to doom you to more of their attention.

Thankfully, the woman just lets out an exaggerated sigh and a too-loud murmur of “your loss”. Those two words are the nail in the coffin of that part of Naruto and Sakura’s conversation, and by the time they end up staggering home, they’ve long since switched to complaining about their upcoming schedules instead.

* * *

Naruto doesn’t think about what she’s lacking in her relationship with Itachi until several weeks later, when he compliments what he thinks is her pickled radish recipe.

“Mm-mmh,” is all she can say at first. And then: “My mother’s.”

“Ah.”

“Kaka-nii was late back from his thing, and Rin-nee’s still at that conference, so Kaachan had a lot left over.” Eating relatively politely in front of Itachi isn’t all bad; it leaves more room to talk, to explain. “And y’know, since it’s the two of us… mm. She knows we’ll finish it.”

“Then please convey my compliments, if you can.”

_No way,_ Naruto wants to say. The handover of the extra side dishes a couple days ago came hand in hand with a mortifying conversation between Kaachan and Mikoto-sama, and all Naruto did to prompt _that_ was speak up when Kaachan was trying to urge some of the leftovers on Mikoto-sama. Only the gods know how much more material passing on Itachi’s compliment could hand to her mother. “Of course,” she lies. “I’ll tell her.”

That night, when Itachi tentatively asks about meeting her parents, Naruto’s not quite sure how she doesn’t immediately start hyperventilating. All she can think in that moment is _FUCK_. Somehow, that comes out as the kind of standard “there’s no need, we’re just fucking” fob-off Yugao-nee is always complaining about having to say to clingy one-heat stands when she thinks Naruto isn’t in earshot.

The good thing is that Itachi nods and accepts it calmly.

The bad thing is that before he gives her the acknowledging nod, his brows crease into a brief, mild frown.

Suddenly, the guilty satisfaction in having managed to head off the spectre of Uchiha Itachi Paying The Parents A Visit turns into disappointment. _He’s put off by the thought I don’t want him to meet them,_ Naruto thinks, _but he’s not really upset, is he?_

The rest of the week sours. It feels even worse because this is one of the few times Itachi’s around enough that she can see him nearly every day. Naruto can’t help but feel on edge, struggling with the urge to take her lumps and nerve herself into bringing up the subject of meeting her parents again. In her head, she practices the conversation she thinks they might have about it over and over, only to run into a serious problem.

‘As my boyfriend,’ is the most normal conversation starter, but after a few tries at saying it to herself, Naruto’s cut off by the sudden, horribly unwelcome thought that Itachi-san has never once called himself that. He _is_ her boyfriend—he fucks her, dozes off on her couch while waiting for her, and is expressly allowed to go through her fridge before shopping for extra ingredients. All boyfriend stuff, but he’s never called himself that.

‘As my alpha,’ is the other, much more cringeworthy option, but the problem with that is the fact that Naruto hasn’t marked Itachi. His steady refusal to cross that line with her means she can’t go over it herself, so technically they do not belong to each other, even though they’ve been interacting as if they do.

So in the end, Naruto doesn’t say anything. She tries to act like her usual flighty, cheerfully frivolous self around him, but she has no idea how well it comes off. _Next time he’s here for a while, I’ll tell him,_ she thinks. _I just need to figure out how to bring up the boyfriend thing, and then talking about my parents will be super easy._

* * *

Two months later, Naruto still hasn’t managed to bring up what she should, but she’s gone from blaming herself for being too cowardly to rock the boat to blaming Itachi a little bit too.

Somewhere in that time, ‘he hasn’t marked me’ starts automatically being rephrased in Naruto’s head as ‘he doesn’t want to mark me’. It’s still a struggle for him to keep from doing so when they’re really getting into it, and yet all Naruto can think about is that Itachi might just be putting that much effort into toeing the line with her so that when their relationship goes wrong, he can ditch her more easily.

The worst thing about this new, unwelcome line of reasoning isn’t how easy it is to keep thinking about it. It’s that Naruto can’t bear to say anything about it to anyone. Kaachan would never, ever, _ever_ stop teasing her. Sakura wouldn’t be able to keep from passing it on to Ino, and soon every girl Naruto went to the Academy with would be giving her sympathetic looks, some mocking, some painfully sincere.

It’s already more or less known that she and Itachi are seeing each other. No one seems to take their relationship too seriously, which is good because it means less teasing and no real pressure, but also bad because Naruto can’t help but feel like everyone she knows expects them to be over by the end of the year.

Sasuke was the first to say it, in such a calm, certain tone that it was all Naruto could do not to go over and throttle him. He apologized, of course, once Naruto fell ominously silent, but the follow-up to his apology bit even deeper: “It’s just that, the two of you? I don’t really see it.”

Even now, Naruto can’t help but agree with him.

The sex is amazing, but she’s not arrogant enough to think Itachi can’t enjoy it with anyone else as much as he does with her. Same goes for the fact that they’re comfortable lounging around together, or really for any of the other little things they share. Naruto being a Kage’s daughter doesn’t come along with any really useful perks, and she’s firmly and thankfully out of the running for succession, so Itachi wouldn’t get anything out of holding onto her from that angle either. Not that she’d want him if he was the type that always thought of the political angle first.

(Sometimes, Naruto dreams that it’s announced that she really does have to be the Hokage right after they get married, and she realizes that’s the reason why Itachi married her. And then she wakes up and has to remind herself of the many, many reasons why such a major political change would never go through without her ever catching wind of it.)

_There’s no point in saying anything yet,_ she keeps telling herself. _It hasn’t even been six months._ If they are still together near the end of the year, it’ll be easy to say something like ‘since we’ve been together for almost a year’ and use that reason to invite him over for a family dinner.

* * *

Three days after the six-month anniversary Naruto quietly celebrated in her head, it’s a few hours before the briefing for a long-term mission Itachi will be heading off for the next day, and Naruto still hasn’t said anything. _There’s too many people here,_ she thinks, halfway through their rare sit-down lunch at Ichiraku’s. _I’ll give it a shot when we get home._

However, even before they cross the threshold of Naruto’s apartment, Itachi is kissing her so hard that she can’t breathe, his fingers deep inside her needy cunt, and all Naruto can think is _mmm_ and _after_.

“Am I,” Itachi gasps, “is it too rough?”

It means he’s going to be even rougher. Naruto, already a little tender from what he did to her last night, squirms within his grip, thinking about how long he’ll be gone. _I want to feel it,_ she wants to say. _I want to still be feeling it when you leave._ But that will sound too much like begging for the mark she knows he won’t give her so instead, all she says is: “it’s fine.”

“Is it?” he asks, a hungry undertone in his voice, half-dragging, half-carrying her into the bedroom. “That’s good.”

He only pauses for a moment, dragging up the hem of her tunic, shoving her panties aside. Naruto shudders, already anticipating the kind of rough, demeaning fingering he’s given her before when they’re both still dressed. But then he comes on top of her and his cock is _already there_ and Naruto can’t keep from crying out when he thrusts right into her.

“You’re always so wet,” Itachi murmurs. “So easy.” _Easy to get in,_ is what he probably means, but Naruto can’t help but imagine he means the other, more derogatory thing, and even then, she can’t keep from crying out and rocking back into his harsh thrusts. “Is it good?”

“Yh—hgh—yes—”

It’s nothing special, just him behind her while she’s on her knees, but it feels… he feels desperate, and even though his knot isn’t swelling at all, his cock feels bigger at this angle and his hands are squeezing and groping her breasts through her tunic. Naruto can’t help but shudder and come. “Enough?”

_It’ll never be enough,_ Naruto thinks, but at least he’s not slowing down, not really asking her opinion so much as pointedly teasing her. “Nn—ngh!” is all she manages to get out in response, but that’s always been enough for Itachi. He keeps thrusting, hammering into her so hard and fast that she can’t take in a proper breath.

Much later on, Itachi winds around her and breathes her in deeply. Just as Naruto’s starting to find it ticklish enough to try and shove him off, he murmurs: “I’ll miss you.”

One part of Naruto melts into an unthinking puddle. Another part decides to go for the boyfriend question immediately, or like, at least as soon as he gets back from the mission.

What Naruto actually does is flirt with Itachi in a way she knows is guaranteed to end with his cock inside her, and even after he finally, reluctantly sets off, she consoles herself with the thought that he’s always seemed to like it when she acts coy.

_I’ll make things clear when he comes back,_ she thinks. _He’ll have missed me for weeks and weeks then; he’ll mark me for sure if I just cry a bit._

* * *

Two weeks into Itachi’s absence, Naruto notices she’s feeling more restless and getting upset over dumb stuff in her shifts touching up the barrier seals; annoyed, she counts off the days until her next period and tries not to give into the urge to start her levellers early.

Her period never comes. Naruto, panicked, goes through a total of three pregnancy tests before finally believing the negative result, then goes off on an angry bender to celebrate the good news. Then, the morning after, it hits her that her sheets no longer smell even a little bit like Itachi anymore, and Naruto can’t keep from sniffling all the way through her morning routine.

The rest of that week isn’t quite hell, but it drags as if it is. And then there’s the week after, where Naruto can’t keep from dropping by the Mission Desk every evening to keep tabs on who’s reported in. _It isn’t fair,_ she keeps thinking. _I’m not even marked, and I’m still fucking fixated._ She very much wants to present that as a thorough rebuttal to Itachi’s caution, hopefully while wrapped around him and sticking as close as she can get.

Unfortunately, what happens between them on Itachi’s return is even more mortifying. Naruto is prepared for embarrassment, for awkwardness, and for Itachi’s careful, polite rejection. She isn’t prepared to take in one whiff of his tired, sweaty body and feel all her reason fly away.

She feels as if she’ll die if she doesn’t put her hands on him immediately. That she manages to get him back to her apartment without doing anything crazy is something she feels should go in her file under ‘Special Achievements’.

This is the first time she’s felt happy to see him too tired to function. It means him leaning heavily on her shoulder as they stagger into her apartment. It means his dark, familiar scent surrounding her as she strips him.

Usually, they wash up separately, but tonight Itachi falls asleep while the water is running, and doesn’t wake even when she takes a little too much time going over his sweaty, pungent groin.

(After Naruto rinses him clean there, she can’t resist bending in for a quick, forbidden suck. She’s not sure whether she feels more disappointed or relieved that even that doesn’t wake him up.)

Getting Itachi out of the tub is fairly simple; keeping his limp weight balanced while trying not to get water everywhere is not. Naturally, that is when he wakes, just as Naruto stabilizes them both from a slip that nearly had her braining herself on the side of the tub.

Things get a little easier after that, physically, since he’s just awake enough to cooperate. Naruto can’t bear to look him in the face, though, suddenly convinced that he might have been pretending earlier. _He got half-hard when I licked him, didn’t he? He knows what I did. He knows, but he’s too tired to make a fuss now, so he’ll scold me in the morning, and then…_

_And then,_ her scrambled brain tells her, _that will be the beginning of the end._

Somehow, even that ominous line of thought isn’t enough to keep Naruto from curling her trembling body around Itachi’s as soon as he’s settled in her bed. Everything she can think to do after that feels wrong, so she simply doesn’t do anything. Hearing Itachi’s steady, sleepy breaths is good—distractingly good—but not enough to curb her restlessness.

She’s not quite sure how she falls asleep. She is sure of one thing: she’s going to tell Itachi she needs his mark tomorrow, no matter what mood he’s in.


	2. exhale

Itachi doesn’t know why he still feels guilty, these days, whenever he’s back in the village for long enough that he can squeeze in a long visit to Naruto’s cramped apartment. Even an idiot would have figured out by now that their initial… meeting didn’t happen by chance, just from a casual glance at the kind of scrolls she has scattered everywhere.

(In his defence, Naruto _did_ use to have problems with seal application to living targets something like a year or two ago, one that apparently saw her mercilessly teased by her cousins back in Uzushio. Naruto, though no slouch by Konoha’s standards, has always been just slow enough at comprehending sealing terminology and tenets that it seemed to her like the right thing to lie about being bad at in a bid to swindle some sweets out of him.)

(Itachi still doesn’t understand how Naruto can tell him something like that without turning a hair—okay, okay, _proudly_ , and blinking up at him and clearly expecting to be praised for her quick thinking—when she blushes so much with him in bed.)

He hasn’t gotten any kind of meaningful summons from the Hokage, or, worse, from Kushina-sama, even though he’s quite sure both of them know about his increasing involvement with Naruto. In fact, far from the kind of stern, yet roundabout talk Itachi was expecting (and did receive, to his intense chagrin, from Father), all that happens is that the side dishes in Naruto’s fridge double in portion after a couple months of him spending the night at hers.

“We’re just fucking,” Naruto said, the one time Itachi tried to bring up the issue, her brows scrunched into an uncomprehending frown. “Why would they need to talk to you?”

 _Because you reek of me, even though I haven’t marked you,_ Itachi wanted to say. _Because we’re ‘just fucking’ often enough that no other alpha in their right mind would dare to make a move on you while I’m away. Because I spend enough time here after ‘just fucking’ that I have spares of everything here._ But Itachi has given and received that kind of brush-off before, so he simply nodded in response, choosing not to rock the boat.

That was likely the time to dial things back a bit as well, so he could exit their relationship with grace. Instead, Itachi found himself fondly imagining how Naruto might manage the delivery of the next hint to back off. How her frown would intensify, and she’d suddenly remember she had to meet up to train with someone, and so Itachi needed to hurry up and shower and leave. How she’d probably look a little guilty while he obeyed her, and get distracted watching him take a leisurely shower.

(Just looking at Itachi’s bare chest for a beat too long is often enough to make Naruto… suggestible. Itachi can never resist taking advantage.)

 _Things are good enough as they are,_ Itachi keeps telling himself, every time he feels the urge to try and get closer, to demand more of Naruto than she’s willing to give. That she’ll cling to him for a few minutes every time he’s about to leave her apartment is probably the most he can expect from her.

Even so, tonight, Itachi can’t seem to keep from prodding that sore spot over and over again. He strokes his fingers up and down the side of Naruto’s neck, not quite on her gland, but near enough. He breathes deeply, taking in as much of her scent as he can. And then: “I’ll miss you,” he finds himself saying, entirely too seriously, as if the month-long mission he will be heading to tomorrow will actually last twice as long.

“Hmph,” Naruto says, wriggling out from under him. “You mean you’ll miss my cunt, right?” As always, she can never quite manage to look him in the eye when she says a word she thinks is a bit too filthy. “You overdid it tonight, you know. I’m _really_ sore.”

“Oh?” Irritated as Itachi is at both her ( _Would it kill you to say you’ll miss me too?_ ) and himself ( _You **know** how she feels, stop pushing it!_), he can’t help but come to attention, hearing that oblique plea for another go in Naruto’s deliberate complaint. “Anything I can do to make things better?”

“Um, well, maybe…”

* * *

That unwise moment of indulgence is how Itachi ends up being very nearly late to the pre-departure briefing for a mission—again. The first time that happened, one of the other jonin pulled him aside and tried to figure out if he was sick; nowadays, though, all he gets are sighs, speculative glances and sly questions about whether he needed a few more minutes to calm down and ‘refocus’ before they get into it.

(Perhaps the only real downside of being with Naruto is how many of his older colleagues have been taking the chance not just to give him condescending advice, but also to be annoyingly, obviously glad for him. Itachi has no idea why any of them are convinced he used to be some kind of ascetic just because he didn’t show up to mission briefings with half-healed love bites, or have messy fights with lovers at or outside the jonin’s favourite bar.)

(No one has asked who his clingy new lover is, thank goodness. Itachi doesn’t know what would be more wearying to deal with, the wide eyes and awkward, painfully polite jokes the truth would result in, or the constant teasing that would happen if he refused to be specific.)

The mission briefing drags on interminably. The fourth member of their team, a Yamanaka Hiroto reeking of what seems to be two different, equally strong scents, _is_ late, and is the most stereotypical example of a new, nervous jonin that you could possibly imagine. He stammers and stumbles all over himself to apologize. When they finally set off, he’s so excited at being handed point that he sets a much faster pace than needed, and almost sprains something as a result.

The rest of the mission does not improve much on that inauspicious beginning. Hiroto-kun actually doesn’t end up being the weak link, despite Itachi’s pessimistic expectations; the insider whose information they were all relying on turns out to have missed a key fact, and things get a little hairy on their extraction of the requested intel. No one loses any limbs, but they all take damage and lose sleep, Itachi in particular since he’s designated their long distance watch for most of it, being the only Uchiha on the team.

By the time Itachi can finally turn off his Sharingan for good, he has a splitting headache, his eyes feel like they’re about to peel out of his skull, and he never wants to hear another word about stamp plate thicknesses or manufacturing tolerances ever again. All he wants is to wobble his way back home and lie down in peace and quiet for at least two days; the hospital would most definitely not be that, because within an hour of his admittance, something like fifteen clan members would just happen to stroll by his room to check on his health and try to see if he’d sprouted an extra tomoe.

(You do that _once_ while on mission…)

Naturally, the first person Itachi runs into just after wordlessly handing in his preliminary report at the Mission Desk is Naruto.

“Oh crap,” she whispers, so loudly everyone in the room can probably hear her, “you smell terrible! I don’t know how I even knew it was you!” And then, before Itachi can do more than frown to try and warn her off, she’s at his side, her right arm threading through his left, half supporting, half dragging him towards the door. “’Scuse me—sorry—coming through, Erika-nee, sorry—”

“Quite alright, Naruto-kun,” ‘Erika-nee’, a.k.a. Watanabe-san, the Hokage’s formidable secretary, says. “Hospital, then?”

“Oh, I didn’t ask! Itachi-nii, do you want—?”

“No.” Utter rejection is in that word, not just for the concept of being dragged to the hospital like this, but also for that frankly unbelievable ‘Itachi-nii’, said so, so _easily_ , so naturally that all Itachi’s self-consciousness about being so close to his omega in front of so many people immediately turns to dust. He’s seen enough of how Naruto interacts with people over the past six months to understand how she uses honorifics; only people with grey hair escape being called ‘niisan’ or ‘neesan’, by her, and sometimes not even then. ‘Niisan’, from her, means ‘that older guy I’m trying to butter up’, and not in a good way. “You don’t need to do this, Naruto. I can go home on my own.”

“You look terrible,” Naruto says, not loosening her iron grip on his arm by an inch. “Your clan district is way on the other side of the village, too. My apartment’s empty most of the time anyway, and it’s only like, two minutes away from here, y’know? You can borrow my couch for a couple hours, just until you feel better.”

Itachi doesn’t know when it is that he realizes she’s breathing a little strangely, taking in sharp breaths in between each long, rambling sentence. Her fingers are slightly sweaty, warm against the skin of his arm. Forceful as she’s being, it’s suddenly all too easy to tell that that’s only on the surface, that what lies beneath is a desperate need for reassurance.

He is her alpha, after all, and he’s been away longer than a month, this time. It’d be strange if Naruto wasn’t at least a little agitated right now, eager to mark him with her scent and be marked in return. The pull to join with someone, to claim them, is always heightened post-mission, especially when returning from a stressful situation, so Itachi is used to it. Naruto, on the other hand…

“You’re coming, right?” she says, without looking back, and all Itachi can bring himself to do is murmur his weary agreement.

* * *

Nothing happens between them that night. Naruto seems to calm down a bit once they’re back in her apartment, at least enough to let go the limpet-like grip she maintained on his arm as they walked there. Their progress was slow enough that she made a joking offer to carry him for the rest of the trip, one Itachi turned down without blinking, only to feel her stiffen beside him, her scent spiking.

To mend that, Itachi put his arm around her slightly hunched frame and told her he didn’t want to fall asleep slung over her shoulder. “I’ve been looking forward to a real bath for three days, now,” he muttered, and was stupidly pleased to have Naruto sniff and declare that he most definitely needed one, all while that telltale tension seeped out of her frame.

Sadly, that meant that instead of falling asleep while being carried, he drifted off in her tiny bathroom, and only woke once, startled by Naruto’s sudden swearing. “Everything’s fine,” she said, hastily. “Go back to sleep, okay?”

Itachi doesn’t remember responding. He vaguely remembers her swearing some more as she tried to dress him in one of the pairs of loose trousers he keeps in her closet, but no more than that.

It’s so relaxing sleeping next to her. Naruto mumbles under her breath sometimes. She doesn’t kick or move restlessly—like most ninja, that’s been arduously trained out of her—but she definitely gravitates to the nearest cool spot, wriggling out of his arms if she needs to. Itachi has long since developed a foolproof method for luring her back; pathetic as it makes him feel, it’s still satisfying when applying hastily created ice to his chest and arms results in Naruto slowly creeping back in towards him.

He can probably mimic the cooling effect with a properly applied seal or two, but then Naruto will notice and wonder why he needs one, and Itachi cannot imagine a universe where a truthful explanation will not result in problems. He can’t imagine that Naruto will take it well. In the best case scenario, her reaction would be _‘That’s kind of…’_ or awkward laughter followed by _‘You know there’s no need to take it that far, right?’_. Followed by a joke about how he really should just ask for more hugs while she’s awake.

Followed, perhaps, by some appointment she mysteriously forgot until just then, and—

 _Stop it,_ Itachi tells himself. _Just stop it._ Naruto’s steady breaths are warming his left shoulder. She still smells intensely sweet, with a hint of clean, salty sweat. Just like she did before he took her for the first time. Tired as he is, he feels a sudden, tearing urge to wake her with his cock or, failing that, cover every inch of her slumbering body with thick spurts of his come.

The only thing he lets himself do is bend in to better smell her. _It won’t be long,_ he thinks. _There’ll be plenty of time to make her smell like me again._

* * *

What actually happens is that Itachi drifts off back to sleep for something like five hours straight, only to wake up and find Naruto’s face pressed against his crotch. She’s only woken him like this once or twice, and both times, he was careful to be gentle with her, unwilling to compound the instinctual distress she felt from being driven to do such a thing.

“Sorry,” Naruto says, her voice muffled by the material of his trousers. “I—I couldn’t—”

“It’s fine, Naruto.”

Her hands fist in the cloth covering his hips, causing the material to strain even more against his half-hard cock. “You were away for a whole month. A _month_.”

That’s the longest they’ve been apart since they started this… thing. This thing Naruto seems barely willing to acknowledge is a thing. So Itachi should be, should be prepared to try and be patient, coaxing, accommodating, but all he feels is a mix of impatience and hunger. “You missed it?” he says, reaching down to stroke through her messy hair. “You missed my cock?” Her breathing is already ragged. “Don’t you know how to fix that?”

What lingering sleepiness remained in him fades entirely when Naruto whines and starts licking his cock through the cloth. She’s not often patient enough to suck Itachi for more than a moment or two before she’s unable to keep from begging him to plug up her cunt, and he doesn’t know to this day whether that annoys him more than it flatters him. He knows she likes looking at him, admiring his muscles, but he also knows all too well that she rarely reaches out to touch.

It’s unfair. If Naruto touched him more, wanted him more, he wouldn’t already be breathing this roughly, biting down on the urge to hold her to him with one hand so he can better abuse her ripe little mouth. His cock is free by now, achingly hard, and she can’t take all of it in, but even this much is good. She’s drooling on him. She lets out a choked little moan when he works his calf up between her parted thighs, and she’s wet enough there that he can feel it through her underwear.

His balls start to tighten. “Naruto,” he says, hoarsely, barely in control, “do you want to swallow it?”

Her eager moan sends him over the edge. Itachi grunts, only just managing to keep still as he empties himself in thick, filthily satisfying spurts. Even before he sees the first trickle escaping the side of her wet mouth, he knows his erection will not be going down any time soon.

It’s easy as anything for him to pin Naruto down after that. Drinking his come only made her more pliant, allowing Itachi to spread and position her beneath him as he sees fit. Soon enough, he’s thrusting into her, enjoying how wet and needy her tight little cunt is.

Moments later, greedy to see more of her flushed face, Itachi turns her over onto her back, only to stop for one long, dazed moment. He _knows_ that almost blank expression. Knows what it means when paired along with a small-pupilled gaze and such thorough wetness within.

Even so, he still manages to coax a few words out of her. Unfortunately, the only things she can seem to say right now are all variations on the usual theme for an omega in heat. “Fill me up,” Naruto moans. "Fill me _hard_.’

“Fuck,” Itachi can’t help but murmur, and not out of admiration. This isn’t the worst time for Naruto to go into heat, but it’s hardly the best time either. The sunlight pouring through the gaps in the curtains drawn across Naruto’s narrow bedroom window is a stark reminder of the mission debriefing Itachi is due to attend in a couple hours. He is unpleasantly sure that Naruto will most likely still be suffering by then. “Ssh,” he says, helplessly, canting his hips forward so he’s well placed to grind against her most sensitive inner spot. “Relax, okay, Naruto? I’ll take care of you.”

He doesn’t want to. Or, more accurately, doesn’t want to revel in it the way he knows he already is. Naruto’s so active on normal days, some unholy, frustrating mix of clingy and wriggly. She likes struggling against his grip, likes being held down. It’s only after he’s seen to her so thoroughly that all she can do is take what he gives her that she’s ever this easy to handle, this yielding.

It shouldn’t be turning him on.

“Nngh—hh—anh…” Her pleas aren’t even intelligible anymore. She rocks up into his measured, careful thrusts with heedless abandon, her head lolling back against the covers.

Itachi’s breath goes ragged at the sight, instinct dragging him down over her even though his plan was to maintain some distance and therefore some clarity. It is all he can do to keep from doing more than sniffing deeply at her exposed neck.

Naruto’s scent is so thick he can almost taste it. Shivering, he forces himself to bend down and lick her breasts, sucking her rock-hard nipples into his mouth, teasing them in a bid to distract himself from what he’d rather be doing.

 _She’ll love it,_ the animal in him snarls. _Look at her. Look how she’s presenting herself._

It takes a long, worrying moment for Itachi to smother the urge to drive in and sink his teeth into the side of Naruto’s neck all in one go. She’s so wet, so wet that it’s hard for him to think clearly.

 _I can do this,_ he tells himself. _I just—I just need to hold on._

Then Naruto squeezes down on his already swollen knot, and Itachi loses a few moments, only coming back to himself after he’s forced her onto her hands and knees and started driving into her hard enough that it surely hurts.

He almost can’t bear to brush her sweaty blonde hair away from her neck; he forces himself to do it anyway, to make sure, and doesn’t know whether or not to be relieved that her neck is still bare of his mark.

But Naruto is whimpering, sobbing in small, painful gasps, so he only has that one, brief moment to stare and try not to imagine being able to touch. Quickly, Itachi picks up the pace, leaning in over her a little, pounding into her slick, fluttering cunt just right. Her breasts would be dangerous to touch right now—too close to her neck—so he settles for groping her hips and stomach instead.

There’s something oddly comforting about the way that, even while fairly far gone into heat haze, Naruto lets out an appreciative moan when he rubs her belly. It never fails to make her come when he touches her there as he’s fucking her, especially if she knows he’s close to finishing. It’s one of those unspoken things between them, just like the way he can’t help licking and sucking at her neck sometimes.

Her orgasm hits just before his, a punishing, relentless squeeze around his cock, tight, so tight that it hurts. Itachi finds himself coming immediately, unable to withstand that delicious pressure on his knot. Wordlessly, he leans in over her again, unable to help it, his cock twitching strongly even as he slows his thrusts.

He can hear nothing but his own increasingly harsh breaths. He isn’t quite in heat—yet. His hands tighten their grip on Naruto’s hips. _If I’m going to lose control, I need…_ Itachi licks his lips. _It’d be safer to bite her now, while I’m still clear-headed._

Even as Itachi thinks that, he knows he’s lying to himself. He’s wanted to mark Naruto ever since he caught a whiff of her scent. As he licks the side of her neck, sucking hard on the skin covering her gland, he thinks first about how it’ll feel. Then about how to sell it to her afterwards, how to explain his misstep.

Naruto would accept it. Surely she knows, by now, that Itachi is only human, that his control cannot be perfect. He is still so terribly hard, his knot swollen enough that his thrusts must be slow and careful.

He wants to come again. He wants to come while biting Naruto, claiming her as fiercely and fully as he can.

Growling, Itachi pulls back from her neck, turning his head away. _I won’t,_ he snarls, inwardly. _I can—I can still—_

His next orgasm, something he thought to be just around the corner, does not come easily. The haze is on him now, and he’s no longer just aroused. He’s short of breath, and his mouth is almost painfully dry.

Usually, when Itachi’s planning to induce a heat, he makes up a lot of porridge and soup, and replenishes his stash of both jerky and sports drinks. He’s not sure where to find whatever Naruto has stashed; it’s never come up before. Inducing a heat isn’t the kind of thing you need to do with a steady partner, and yet here he is, trapped into doing so just to be considerate.

Thankfully, he doesn’t have to be all pure, gentlemanly consideration. Naruto whimpers as he forces more of his knot into her. She’s on her back now, her legs splayed obscenely wide for him, because that puts her neck further away from his greedy mouth. Her lithe body makes his swollen, knotted cock look even more massive than it actually is, and though he usually loves seeing himself slide into her, right now it’s just one more infuriating distraction.

 _She belongs to you,_ the animal in him keeps saying. _Look at her. Begging for a bite._ Itachi used to worry that that fierce need for possession might mean him needing to mark his partners, but he soon learned it was something he could control. Something he could lessen the ache of with more frequent sex.

That he’s in this situation with Naruto is at least partly his fault. He’s not the traditional type; unhappy as it would make him to come home to Naruto only to find someone else’s stench on her, he knows he can bear it. He should have made it clear to her that she had that option while he was away.

He didn’t, and now they are both paying for it. A shift and an involuntary squeeze from Naruto suddenly has Itachi arching over her, growling as he empties himself, and though his knot diminishes a bit, it still aches. “Wake up,” he finds himself saying. “Wake up, Naruto.”

Pulling out all the way feels like it should be impossible, but it isn’t. It just—it hurts, and it’s slow, and leaves his muddled thoughts free to run wild. _I didn’t tell her to seek comfort while I’m gone,_ Itachi thinks, _because I’m afraid she’ll leave._ If it really is only the sex holding them together, he won’t be justified in being upset if she, like some unattached omegas, decides to keep him on as just one of her many partners. _I want her, but she doesn’t…_

Naruto’s eyelashes flutter. She squeezes down on the withdrawing, oversensitive head of his cock, causing him to flinch above her. “Hey,” Itachi murmurs, pulling back a little further. “Wake up? Please?”

“Why?” Naruto says, the thin sound almost too quiet to hear. “I need…”

“You need to eat, Naruto,” Itachi murmurs. “We both need to eat.” The urge to mark her is still frighteningly strong, but thankfully the sight of her weakly stirring body is also feeding his other, stronger urge to take care of her. “Can you stand up for me? Can you try?”

She does try, but since the attempt ends in her also trying to suck his slick, sticky cock, Itachi judges it best that he carry her instead. That having her moaning and wriggling fretfully in his arms feels incredibly satisfying is just a coincidence.

It turns out that Naruto has leftovers, rice and miso and a couple side dishes Itachi barely tastes as he eats them. That Naruto doesn’t have to be… convinced to eat is definitely a good sign. Another hard fuck or two will probably clear her head for a good few hours, long enough for him to try to report in for the debriefing and scrounge up some more supplies for the rest of their heat.

Itachi can’t help but dread the moment she comes out of heat haze. He sucked on her neck again while he carried her, hard enough to make her cry out. It’s not quite a mark, but it’s close; her skin is bruising a little to the left of her gland, and he worried that she’ll see that and think…

“Fuck me,” Naruto whines. “I did it, I ate, so _please_!”

It’s… it feels like full circle. Him and her on her kitchen table. She’s so wet that he squelches in and out of her. She’s on her stomach, her sweaty body leaving damp marks on the wood, and he can feel their mingled juices splashing out with every thrust, slicking both their thighs. It’s glorious.

Even better, she’s just lucid enough—needy enough—that she’s starting to fight his grip the way she always does, jarring him out of his slow, steady rhythm he’s been trying to set. “Stay still,” Itachi growls, but of course she doesn’t.

This is another thing they don’t talk about. Naruto whimpers, still struggling, and even like this she can probably manage to wriggle out from under him if she applies herself, which means he has to—needs to put a hand around her throat and crush away her air. Her strangled whine sends a jolt of animal pleasure through him.

He doesn’t know what she gets out of this. Or, more correctly, Itachi doesn’t want to know, doesn’t want to confirm that the way her slick cunt is clenching around him right now is a simple result of her being the type to enjoy rough sex. He wants a different answer. He wants her shudders to be all about him, all due to it being him doing this to her.

“I… I want…” Naruto’s voice is thin, thready with effort and shame. He doesn’t need to hear the rest of that begging statement to know what she’s asking for.

Even so, as Itachi speeds up, shifting his bruising hold on her throat to an even tighter grip on her right shoulder, he wants… once, just once, to hear her beg for his come in exactly those blunt, filthy words. She never does; it’s one of the things that embarrasses her too much.

There’s something really wrong with him for thinking of making her do it now, withholding what she needs while she’s so weak, so easily guided—

“Do it,” Naruto sobs, and suddenly the temptation falls away. All he can feel is the fierce, desperate pressure of her cunt tightening deliberately around him, begging him the most primal way. “Do it—”

Itachi comes with a snarl, leaning in as close as he can get. Her scent is so fucking thick that doing only that, filling her up just doesn’t seem like enough. With each pulse of his aching cock, he finds himself closer to her neck, breathing heavily, licking his worryingly prominent incisors.

 _Claim her!_ the beast howls, so he gulps in a breath, and another, and another, pressing down the urge even as he laps at the skin covering her gland.

“Do it,” Naruto is still whimpering. “Please.”

That’s not a good sign. Sighing, Itachi strokes a hand down her slightly hunched back. So much all his hopes for her breaking out of the haze today; if coming deep inside her something like three or four times in a row isn’t enough to satisfy just the first wave, she’s going to be in for a rough heat. “Give me a minute, okay? I’ll—”

“No!” There’s a snarling note in her thin, choked tone, one that makes him freeze against her. “You don’t… why can’t you just _do it_?”

“Naruto, I won’t even pull out,” Itachi murmurs, unsure if pulling further away from her neck is helping at all. It’s better for his control, certainly, but the panicky gulps of air Naruto keeps taking in and shuddering out are a sign that closeness might comfort her more. “Just—can you try and breathe for me? Slowly?”

“You…” She gulps. When he leans in over her slumped, hunched back, she trembles. “Stop it.” Those two words are fierce, bitten-off sounds. “You don’t—and you’re always—”

 _Is she…?_ Itachi thinks, even as he bends sideways, desperate to catch a glimpse of her doubtless contorted expression. “Are you out of it already?”

“I—” Her breathing only gets this rough when she’s close to tears. “I’m fine.”

“Did I hurt you? Are you—”

“I said I’m fine!” Her voice is a choked, wounded snarl, one that confuses Itachi just as much as it concerns him. “Pull out.”

It’s all he can do to keep from flinching. His mouth doesn’t feel like it belongs to him; instead of a simple, polite ‘okay’ or an acknowledging grunt, he finds himself asking, like an idiot: “But Naruto, aren’t you still…?”

“Shut up.” The ragged breath she draws in after those words makes him feel even worse. “You don’t—you don’t really want me, so just—”

_What?_

“—up and leave.” Naruto’s voice firms on that last word. “You don’t need to force yourself to help me.”

“Force myself,” Itachi hears himself repeating in a low, flat tone. Already, his hand has curled around around Naruto’s throat without his permission. “You think I’m forcing myself?” The slight flinch that goes through her decides him. “Stay still.”

“Nn— _ngh_!” Naruto’s weak, shocked cry is music to his ears. Biting her like this makes him feel like he’s stealing something from her. Her ragged, panting breaths, her sudden clench within… it’s so good that he nearly can’t keep back a groan.

Her sweet scent is bloody now, too. Changed. He can taste the blood in his mouth—not too much, thankfully. He’s never deliberately bitten anyone in a way he knows will likely last; he worried he would hurt her more than necessary.

“You have a week,” Itachi murmurs. He doesn’t know how he manages to keep his voice steady. “If you don’t want to return the bite—”

“I want it,” Naruto blurts out, so loudly that her voice cracks. “I’ll, I can do it right now.”

Frowning, Itachi moves to stop her, confused by this sudden, comprehensive about-face, only to notice that she’s clutching at the arm he has around her waist as if it’s the only thing keeping her afloat. Then, when she just carries on clutching it and shaking—not biting, even though she could probably bend to reach his wrist, a tricky, but perfectly acceptable location for a mating bite—Itachi realizes that this is likely the wrong location for sorting this out.

It doesn’t take much to slip back out of her and gather her into his arms. Typically, she tucks her head under his chin and against his chest rather than risk looking him in the eye.

It isn’t until he shoulders his way back into her bedroom that he feels a nip at his collarbone, one so hesitant he nearly doesn’t register it. He freezes. Shivering, Naruto presses her head against his chest again.

Somehow, he manages to keep going. Letting her down onto her bed is an enormously awkward affair; she’s still refusing to meet his gaze, and yet her scent is so thick, so much he can almost taste it. “I don’t understand,” he can’t help but say. “I thought you thought I was clingy.”

“ _I’m_ the one…” Naruto mutters, then sniffs, hard, knuckling at her tightly shut eyes. Suddenly he can’t bear to keep his distance, to give the both of them space to work through their confusion; in the next moment, he’s half on top of her, half wound around her, lapping at the sweet, bruising skin on the side of her neck.

That is when she bites him for real, or at least tries to. His shoulder aches under the pressure of her teeth. He pants despite himself, unable to stave off a new, terrifying surge of desire.

“I tricked you to start things off,” Naruto mumbles, her breath warm and damp against his aching skin. “I even boasted about it.”

“You didn’t trick anything out of me that I didn’t very much want to give you, Naruto.”

“But—”

“Believe me. Try, just try, for the next two weeks.” That’s around when even a semi-permanent mating mark will start to fade in potency. By then, they should have a better idea of whether this can work out. “Please?”

“Okay.”

Itachi, who was half expecting some more downcast hedging on Naruto’s part, can’t help but pull back from her a bit, only to see her looking up at him and biting her bottom lip.

Naturally, he has to kiss her. He licks inside her wet, warm mouth, soothing her tongue with his, rubbing his hands over her chest, alternating gentle pinches of her nipples with harsh squeezes of her ripe little breasts. “You’re going to explain yourself later,” he murmurs. “You know that, right?”

“Ngh—y-yes—”

 _Good enough,_ Itachi thinks, and it is the work of one feverish moment to part her willing thighs and slide right back into her again. The way she clings to him—the hoarse, needy groan she let out—it’s perfect.

* * *

A clone attends his debriefing on his behalf. Embarrassed as Itachi feels to rely on that, or to contemplate the kind of comments he’ll get from his teammates from now on, he still cannot bear to leave Naruto’s side long enough to do the proper, professional thing.

* * *

Naruto’s reasons for her attempts to keep their relationship casual are as infuriating as they are simple.

“We don’t match,” she says, sullenly, to his chest. “I mean, you’re a genius, and, and…”

“Aren’t you one as well?” he somehow manages to say, without making it sound quite like the accusation it is. She’s not yet a seal master, but the fact that most of her missions revolve more around deciphering new bundles of scrolls than leaving the village for more than a week at a time are a glaring sign that she’s on the path to mastery. “Or is there something I’ve missed?”

“That—it’s just, I’m good enough _here_ , but you have no idea how many of my cousins are just,” and Naruto makes a noise that’s something between a snort and a frustrated snarl, “ _better_. There’s, like, there’s this special pool on the island they make ink with, and it’s so fucking expensive I only get to use it when I’m there, and it makes things so much more difficult if you keep having to switch, y’know? And I’m the Hokage’s daughter, and there’s my _mother_ , and I’m just not…”

“So?”

Naruto lets out a frustrated breath. “And you’re so _nice_. And the way you look is just…”

“You think I don’t like the way you look?”

There’s something deeply satisfying about the way Naruto ducks her head then, the action just slow and jerky enough that it fails to hide her sudden flush. “I didn’t say that. It’s just, I’m, I know I’m alright, but that’s nowhere near the way _you_ look.”

“I’m not all that handsome for an Uchiha,” Itachi says, his tone deliberately bland. He’s never minded that little truth before, but he minds it even less when Naruto looks up at him, her eyes wide, her brows furrowed from the strength of her indignation. “So if you’re worrying about how well we match…”

“Who told you that?” Naruto almost shouts. “That’s! That’s bullshit! You’re definitely—I mean, who the hell are they comparing you to? You’d win!”

Itachi’s plan to say something teasing about how Naruto’s biased in his favour just because he’s her alpha dissolves into nothing beneath the force of that last, forceful declaration. He pauses for a moment, uncertain of how to go on, and finds himself saying: “I thought you’d feel better hearing that we’re not as far apart as you thought, at least in everyone else’s eyes.”

“No way,” Naruto says, her eyes narrowing. “Who the hell would want that? And anyway, it’s not even true! Anyone with eyes’ll know I snatched up the best Uchiha once we announce our engagement.”

“Oh?” Itachi can’t help but pull her close again. “You’re proposing to me too, huh? Just like that?”

“Don’t pretend you don’t like it,” Naruto mutters. “And anyway, you know what I meant. There’s no way my parents would let you move in with me without an engagement, and like you said before, you’re practically already living here anyway, and… ngh…”

 _And I want you here all the time,_ Itachi fills in for her, mentally, even as he covers her mouth with his. It helps that her scent is echoing that unspoken want, so thick and sweet he can practically taste it. “You’re right,” he says, hoarsely, some time later. “I like it.”

Naruto’s response is a thready, barely audible whisper; her little proposal meant that they both got a bit more excited than usual. “You’ll… you’ll move in?”

“Mm.”

Naruto lets out a brief murmur of satisfaction, wriggling even closer towards him. Then, just as he’s all but drifted off, she says, in that same low whisper, almost as if she doesn’t want him to hear: “I may never let you move out.”

“Hm?”

“Nothing,” she says immediately, a little more loudly. “Just mumbling.”

It’s obvious enough that she’s embarrassed by her possessiveness that Itachi decides to leave his teasing answer unspoken. After all, it isn’t as if this will be his last chance to let Naruto know he wants her just as much as she wants him.

* * *

When Itachi and Naruto get married four years later, no one is surprised.

Naruto is nervous throughout the ceremony, her fingers nearly wringing all life from his whenever they hold hands. “It’s weird,” she complains, the first moment they’re alone in their house, catching their breath together while their parents and various friends and well-wishers do their best to drink every drop of alcohol in the place. “Nothing really feels different, even though…”

“You’ve been mine all this time, though, haven’t you?” Itachi can’t help but say. Naruto’s wise to his deadpan jokes by now, but it still takes her a moment to realize what he’s trying for if, he packages his nonsense along with a slight, serious frown, the way he’s doing right now. “All that’s changed today is what’s in our records.”

“You—!” Possibly, his tone wasn’t quite right; Naruto is glaring up at him already. “You know what I meant!”

Annoyed as she is, she still yields to a careful tug on her hand, coming close enough that Itachi can bend to press a kiss to her flushed, painted cheek. “I could say the same thing to you,” he murmurs. “Nothing’s ever going to change the way you feel about me.”

“You…” That one, unsteady word combines with the way Naruto looks up at him, leaving him breathless. “Hmph.”

“You said you were going to keep me,” Itachi murmurs, “and you have, right?” Her scent is flaring up again, a sweet contrast to her heavy scowl, and to the way her hand is struggling weakly in his grip. “See? I’m still here.”

* * *

No one seems all that surprised that the two of them are a little rumpled coming back from the storeroom, or that they didn’t end up bringing along the promised extra beers.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you thought ❤️❤️❤️


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